


The End

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [117]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, MSR, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:25:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf





	The End

_“Who do you work for?! You work for him? You and Old Smokey? Is that who put this together?! You’re going down for this! I’m going to see you prosecuted for murder, you watch me! Watch it happen! Your days are numbered!”_  
_“You’re wrong, Agent Mulder. It’s your days that are numbered.”_

She looked up sharply as Mulder jerked the office door open and slammed it shut behind himself.

“Mulder, what--”

The phone rang, cutting her off. She let it ring, eyebrows raised as she continued to watch her partner. His hands were clenched at his sides, jaw muscle bulging as he gritted his teeth and exhaled sharply through flared nostrils. He looked like he was about to punch a hole in the wall.

“That was fast,” he said tightly, jerking his chin toward the phone. “You’d probably better answer that. Tell him I’m already on my way home.”

She frowned, picking up the receiver. “Scully.”

“Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner. Is Agent Mulder there with you?”

Meeting Mulder’s eyes, she said, “N-no, sir, he… he’s just left. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I have Agent Spender here saying Mulder assaulted him in the hallway. Do you know anything about that?”

“No, sir! No, I don’t.” Her eyebrows shot up, and Mulder shrugged, the movement nearly imperceptible through the tension in his frame. 

“Listen, I understand you and Agent Mulder are both under a lot of pressure, that he is understandably upset about recent developments in the case, but an outburst of this nature is simply not acceptable. Advise your partner that he’s under orders to take the rest of the day off.”

“Yes, sir.”

She hung up the phone and stood, shaking her head. “Come on, Mulder. I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to babysit me, Scully,” he said, grabbing his briefcase from beside the desk and turning to go. She put a hand on his arm.

“Skinner said you attacked Spender.”

“‘Attack’ is such a strong word.” He shrugged away from her grip. “Besides, he deserves a lot worse than what I did to him.”

Patting her pocket to check for her keys, she followed him out of the office, locking the door behind them. Despite his earlier protest, he didn’t argue as she walked with him to the parking garage, and he hesitated only briefly when they reached his car and she shook her head, pointing toward her own, three spaces over. He shrugged one shoulder and stalked ahead to her car, getting in on the passenger’s side after she unlocked it. The ride to his apartment was quiet; he didn’t seem to feel like talking, and she saw no reason to push him. 

Skinner was right that they were both under a lot of stress. Gibson was still missing, and last she’d heard, Agent Fowley was still in surgery. Though there was certainly no love lost between her and Diana, Scully didn’t exactly want her to die, either. And Mulder… well, she still didn’t know what Mulder was feeling, but knowing that he and Fowley had a past that was at least somewhat romantic in nature, it was entirely reasonable for him to be upset. His anger with Spender, while perhaps misdirected, was understandable.

After parking the car, she grabbed her overnight bag and med kit from the trunk and followed him upstairs. With the practiced ease of two people who spent almost every day together, she retreated to the bathroom, and he to that bedroom he never slept in, both of them changing out of work suits; it went without saying that if she’d driven him all the way here, she was staying for a while, so she might as well be comfortable. He was already sitting on the couch in jeans and a gray t-shirt when she emerged from the bathroom, two pills in her hand. She set down her bags, drew a glass of water, and returned to sit beside him.

“Here,” she said, holding the pills out to him. He took them from her without comment or question, swallowing them dry and following up by draining the glass of water she handed him next. The mild sedative would help keep his mind from racing, from fixating on Spender and the case and Diana’s potential fate. It would take the edge off his anger and let him get at least some of the rest he so desperately needed. And as Mulder leaned back against the couch with a sigh, Scully couldn’t help feeling pleased that, regardless of whoever may have come back into his life in the past few days, his comfort with and confidence in her seemed to be unchanged.

She hated herself, just a little, for the petty smugness that also arose unbidden, though she suppressed it just as quickly.

“If Spender’s in bed with the Smoking Man, this whole investigation was rigged from the start,” Mulder murmured, rubbing his face. “He certainly had me fooled, playing the skeptical idiot. I thought he was just dense, not the devil’s messenger boy.”

Scully raised an eyebrow. “Since when does skepticism signify idiocy?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

She did. Though she didn’t necessarily agree that Spender was some sort of evil mastermind, she did have to agree that his stubborn refusal to accept even the quantifiable evidence in Gibson’s case could be characterized as willful ignorance at best.

He blinked at her, shaking his head. “What’d you give me?”

“Something to help you rest.”

“I’m gonna…” He moved to stretch out on the couch, putting his head on the arm rest, and Scully stood so he could bring his long legs up from the cramped angle necessary to keep his feet on the floor. She crossed the room to sit in his desk chair, booting up his computer as she did so.

“I’m going to do a little research, if that’s all right.”

“Sure. Just don’t tie up the phone line too long. I’m sure Skinner will call and chew me out at some point. Wouldn’t want to miss that. On second thought…” Even with his eyes closed, arms folded across his chest, he offered a wry grin. Scully chuckled.

“This won’t take long. And I’ll run interference when Skinner calls. You rest.”

“Have I ever told you you’re a saint, Scully?”

She snorted. “Not lately.”

For a time, the only sounds in the apartment were made by the clicking of the keyboard, the steady bubble of the fish tank filter, and Mulder’s deep, even breaths.


End file.
